Three's a Crowd
by Pheo
Summary: Some midnight snacking at Number 12, Grimmauld Place proves to be more revealing than caloric. RT


**Title:** Three's a Crowd  
**Author:** pheo  
**Ratings & Warnings:** A strong PG-13 for language, sexual overtones, and… adult descriptions?  
**Prompts: (Written for the January rt challenge at LiveJournal)** 9: Bump and 21: blue  
**Summary:** This takes place right after _Goblet of Fire._ I got this silly idea after running across some pretty funny, very explicit, image manipulations on certain wizarding magazines… 

"Oof!"

"Pardon me!"

"Bloody hell—I'm so sorry!"

"Oi, what's all this racket about?"

Someone cast a _lumos_ spell in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, and its three occupants blinked at each other stupidly.

"I do beg your pardon," Remus began, quite uncomfortable. Nymphadora Tonks, the newest Order member, was standing in front of him, wearing little more than a smile. Her sheer, slinky pink gown, trimmed in wispy pink marabou fluff, may have covered her adequately, but it highlighted every curve—inspiring a howl that had nothing to do with the moon. Her hair was long and a wispy, light shade of blue, parted into messy pigtails that she'd surely been sleeping in, and pink nail polish peeked from her matching marabou slippers.

"No, 's me, I'm so damn clumsy," Tonks managed, swallowing hard herself. She couldn't believe her luck—there, in the flesh, was the very wizard who had been the subject of every pleasant dream she'd had since joining the Order. And oh, did he look delicious in his dark blue pyjamas. Though obviously old, they were well-cared for, and made his eyes seem darker. The top two buttons were undone, showing both scars and lean muscle, while his graying hair was tousled, adorably smashed down on one side.

"Both of you gits need to watch where you're going," Sirius grumbled, scratching his arse. His long black hair hang on both sides of his face, still damp from his shower, and his two-day-old stubble seemed to highlight the cool blue of his eyes. Though still thin from Azkaban, a year of working out on the outside had done him good, and his muscular torso was fairly ripped above his animal-print boxers.

He squinted at Remus, and then Tonks. "Am I interrupting something?"

The two looked at each other, then at Sirius. "No," they said in unison.

Tonks blushed. "I stayed after my mission with Dung and couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd nosh some of Molly's brownies."

"I was up for a bit of chocolate myself, though of the liquid variety," Remus admitted, lifting a thin package for them to see.

"You two and your bloody chocolate," Sirius mumbled, popping a cupboard door open. "Fancied a fag m'self," he continued, his voice even more muffled from within the cupboard. Fishing out a rumpled package, he held it up triumphantly.

Tonks rolled her eyes as she bit into her brownie. "Really, Sirius," she admonished, waving her fork around and speaking through the chocolate. "Must you in the house? Molly is going to have your hide." Abruptly, her fork flew out of her hand and beneath the table.

"You really think Sirius is going to let something like--" Remus broke off, ogling.

_Merlin._

As Tonks bent to get her fork, a very fetching pink garter belt peeked out from beneath her little gown.

Sirius peered to see what had caught Remus' attention, but before he could see, Tonks was standing once again. "Oi, will you look at what I found taped beneath ol' Dung's chair!"

Both men craned their necks to see the cover of _Witch Weekly_.

"So?" Sirius asked, puffing on a cigarette.

Remus waved the smoke away. "Why would Mundugus Fletcher be reading _Witch Weekly_—or anything, for that matter?"

Tonks smirked. "Exactly." She tapped her wand—which Remus thought must have been tucked away in that garter belt, which caused him to shiver and her to raise an eyebrow at him—and the cover of the magazine quickly faded to reveal another.

"_Playwizard!_" Sirius practically squealed, lunging for the magazine. "Good lord, I haven't seen one of these since our days at Hogwarts! Remember, Remus?"

"Erm," Remus coughed as Sirius began paging through the publication. "I—I don't recall--"

"Of course you do!" Sirius turned to Tonks. "He always had a thing for the _naughty_ ones, you know—with the weird hair or the outlandish accessories or--" he suddenly broke off, giving her a quick once-over. "Good god!" 

"What is it?" Remus' voice was strangled as he tried to avoid Tonks' smug look in his direction.

"These women show a lot more than they did back when we were lads. Bloody hell!" he twisted the magazine to an angle as the woman in the photo moved, and then another, and finally turned it upside-down. "Is that even anatomically possible?"

Tonks laughed as she bit the last bite of her brownie. "I hate to break it to you gents, but those photos are magically re-touched—and the letters they send in are bollocks to boot."

"Well, that's obvious, at least." Remus grinned at her, and as she grinned back, he struggled to find his voice again. "Every gentleman writes that his girlfriend is the most beautiful witch on earth, and every witch writes the same about her lover. Hence, if they did bear any truth at all, that would mean the same witch and wizard were writing in every month from all over the globe."

Satisfied with his logic, Remus was taken aback at Tonks' pointed look. "So you do remember them, then?"

Sirius laughed as Remus turned pale. "Well, you see, that is, Sirius was always quite fond of them, and they do contain some articles of merit--"

Tonks laughed this time. "Articles of merit? This from a Hogwarts professor?"

Remus blushed. "Many authors have actually found their first publishers in such publications as this, Tonks."

"And are you one such author, _professor_?" Tonks stuck a hand on her hip, amplifying both her cleavage and the dryness of his mouth.

Remus held up a hand but Sirius broke in. "You're right, you know. Every single one of the witches in these letters is gorgeous and dressed in something scintillatingly delicious, and every wizard is completely well-hung, handsome, and in equally compromised clothing. Total rubbish."

Remus and Tonks met each other's gazes. Then Remus and Sirius looked at each other. Finally, Tonks and her cousin exchanged glances.

"Bollocks," Tonks repeated her earlier comment, shaking her head.

"Complete fabrications," Remus said.

"Bollocks," Sirius agreed. He stamped out his cigarette, burning a hole in the most ancient linoleum of Black, and said, "Well, I'm off to bed, you lot. Don't stay up too late." No one said a word when he took the magazine with him.

As his paw print-ensconced bum retreated up the stairs, Tonks said, "I'd better be getting to sleep, too. I've work in the morning."

"Goodnight," Remus murmured, turning to his hot chocolate once again.

"The weird ones, huh?"

He spun around. With her lips parted, her form leant against the door frame, and her eyes expectantly meeting his, Remus knew he'd never seen anything glossy ever coming close to the living, breathing dream standing before him.

"No," he said softly. He licked his lips. "The striking… exotic… colorful ones."

And he watched, mesmerized, as a slow pink blush crept up her skin, turning even the blue strands of her hair a bright, vivid pink.


End file.
